"This way! We've got him!"
"We found the Messenger of the Gods! What a miracle!"

Dovian's eyes flew open. A cough tore through his chest, wrenching the water from his lungs. Air surged back in—icy, jagged. Rain slapped his cheeks. Above him, the sky was a smear of gray.

The deck rocked beneath him. Rough hands pounded his back, too hard, too eager. Voices rang with jubilation. The boy swayed, dizzy.

"Stop! You'll knock him out again!"

Hakar's voice was not loud, but it cut through. The crew stilled at once.

Through the blur, Dovian saw only the healer's bright eyes, full of concern.

Then darkness swept over him.

He passed out, convinced it had all been a nightmare.
Because Gods?

Gods weren't real.

***

"But now you know it wasn't a dream, right?"

Lorak's voice brimmed with excitement as he bounded beside Dovian. The two boys wandered aimlessly through the city, going over the same conversation they'd had more times than they could count. Unlike his friend, Dovian wasn't smiling. He walked with his head down, fingers worrying the red string around his neck.

"Yeah," he muttered. "It wasn't."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" Lorak scrambled up a tree and dropped back down, grinning. "You're the chosen Messenger of the Gods! That's amazing!"

Dovian shot him a look.
"Amazing? What's so amazing about it? If you want it so badly, take my place. Let me be the Prince."

Lorak chuckled awkwardly.
"Come on, you know it doesn't work like that. Still... no messages?"

Dovian shook his head, his face shadowed.
"Nothing. Honestly, I wish they'd just forget me. Leave me alone."

No sooner had the words left him than a junglefowl burst shrieking from the underbrush. It charged at Dovian, wings flapping, beak striking at his legs. He yelped, stumbling back, flailing at the furious bird—when its screeches twisted into words.

"Insolent child! How dare you doubt the Gods? That's blasphemy! They are always watching, always present. What does a foolish boy like you know? Many have served as messengers before you—but never one so defiant! Keep that attitude, and you will regret it!"

With a final thunderous flap, the bird vanished into the forest.

Dovian stood frozen, eyes wide. Then he staggered back and fell to the ground, face pale.

Laughter erupted around him.

"Ha! Hahahaha!"

Startled, Dovian turned and saw a crowd of children gathered, pointing and jeering. He realized how silly he must have looked in their eyes, being the only one knowing what that fowl really was, and that it had spoken. At the center stood her. Stunning, radiant, and completely unbothered. She doubled over with laughter, her voice clear and ringing like silver bells.

"Hey, Dovian!" she called, still giggling. "Were you really that scared?"

"It was just a wild chicken!" another boy snorted.

The voice came from Sovak, a boy about the same age as Dovian and Lorak, dressed in silks that marked him as high-born. The son of First General Zaren, a powerful courtier in King Hugan's court, Sovak was arrogant and spoiled, with a permanent sneer for anyone he deemed beneath him. Dovian had never liked him.

But at that moment, it wasn't Sovak who made Dovian's stomach twist—it was the girl. Her face, luminous as a full moon, seemed to glow even brighter when she laughed. Her laughter was dazzling, merciless.

"She's laughing at me," Dovian thought. "Her. Of all people."

"Dovian, you okay?" Lorak's voice was gentle, though his lips twitched as if he was fighting back a smile.

Dovian scowled and strode off, trying not to look like he was fleeing.

A few adults hurried over, chiding the children. Thinking Dovian couldn't hear, they whispered:

"Don't tease him—if he's angry, he might call the Gods down to punish us!"

"But he's strange," a child hissed back. "Not like anyone else—"

The boy's mother clamped a hand over his mouth, her eyes wide with fear, and dragged him away.

Dovian pretended not to hear. He walked faster, ignoring Sovak's deliberately loud voice behind him:

"Punish us? Hah! That freak's no god. I'm not afraid of him."

"Shut your mouth!" Lorak snapped. Then he rounded on the girl. "And you—why laugh with them, Mia? You're a Princess!"

Mia tilted her head, pouting playfully.
"I wasn't laughing with them. They were laughing with me."

She huffed, feigning innocence—then burst out laughing again. The sound pealed through the air like a volley of arrows.

Each one struck Dovian square in the chest.

___

By dusk, lanterns glowed across the city, families retreating into warmth. But Dovian lingered alone by the riverbank, as he often did when the weight grew too heavy. Here, by the water, he felt closer to his lost parents.

Quiet and reserved by nature, Dovian had always been a loner. Still, it hit harder at times like these.

He sat on a flat stone, staring into the river. The surface shimmered with moonlight, smooth and glassy—so peaceful, so harmless. Who knows how many lives it had swallowed in its fury.

His reflection wavered in the water. Unlike the other boys with their sun-browned skin, narrow eyes, and sleek dark hair, his face was pale, his eyes wide, his curls a wild tangle.

Sister Dana always said he wasn't ugly. But he knew she only said that to make him feel better.

"Sister Dana!" The thought jolted him upright. It was late. She'd be worried sick.

He was about to leave when something stirred beneath the water. Ripples spread outward. For an instant, he swore he saw two enormous eyes staring up at him.

But when he leaned closer, it was only his own reflection.

"Probably just a fish," he muttered.

Yes. Probably.